Exploring Montevideo

Marilyn, January 28, 2015

After our adventures of the last few weeks traveling hither and yon, we are back in Montevideo for two weeks.  We are renting a seventh-floor apartment that provides us with a beautiful view of a large park with the Rio de la Plata beyond, complete with breathtaking sunsets.  Gene is easing into his work and is feeling very optimistic about the research he will be doing and the colleagues he'll be working with.  We are all starting to figure things out a little better.  The boys are understanding a good deal of Spanish, I'm communicating adequately in most cases, and Gene is doing an admirable job of putting the few Spanish words he knows together with clues from his translation apps and a good deal of sign language to get the information he needs.  He also dealt beautifully with the neighbor who called the police the first day we were in our apartment because she thought we were breaking in.

View of Parque Rodó from our balcony

My guidebook says that one of the few things that people in other countries know about Uruguay is that it has the longest Carnaval in the world.  (Are you one of the people who knew that?  I wasn't, before I read it in the guidebook.)  New Orleans has its couple of weeks of Mardi Gras, Buenos Aires has its ten days or so, but here the celebrations last for a month.  On Thursday, we went to the parade in Montevideo's Old City that kicks the whole thing off.  It was kind of an adventure getting there.  The boys and I got on the wrong bus, which would not have been a problem if we had gotten off of it at the right point.  But we overshot our destination by many miles, and then had to make our way back through unfamiliar territory, creating yet another opportunity for me to model for my children resourcefulness and confidence in spite of not having a clue what I was doing.  Subway sandwiches, ice cream cones, and meeting up with Gene re-energized us, and we ventured into the throngs of people gathering along Avenida 18 de Julio and tried to figure out Uruguayan parade-watching protocol.  We staked out a prime patch of sidewalk and waited patiently (some of us more patient than others) for the parade to begin.  Teo shared his impression of the parade here; later he made the additional comment that the parade included "a lot of skin," which it certainly did.  For my part, I thought it was a lot of fun being there and found it easy to get caught up in the excitement of it all.  I also loved looking across the street to the crowd on the other side and into a sea of faces all of different hues.  It may have been the most diverse group of people in terms of skin color that I've ever seen outside of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Who's behind that mask?

On the sidewalk in front of us were two or three rows of chairs that extended for blocks up and down the street.  Only people who had pre-purchased tickets could sit in those chairs, and they were pretty closely monitored by parade officials.  A couple older women in the chairs near us seemed to take a particular interest in Teo and Javy, as many people here do.  (As a "conspicuous family," we're even more conspicuous here, with people clearly confused about why we look different from our kids.)  When a guy came by passing out bags of confetti to the seated spectators, these women were very determined to procure a bag for each of the boys.  We didn't really know what all the fuss was about and I was a little surprised to realize that they were making such a scene over bags of hole-punches.  (What were they called in the 2000 elections in Florida?  Chads?)  Whatever they are called, the many thousands that the boys were gifted with produced a world of delight.  Most of them ended up in my hair initially, and all over our apartment floor eventually.  But they did help the boys get into the spirit of things.  The confetti lasted almost as long as our interest in the parade did, and after seeing the hundredth group of scantily-clad dancers flanked by banners advertising beer, we found a bus home, satisfied that we had adequately taken in all the culture the parade had to offer.

The weekend held more touristy adventures for us.  Inspired by the geocaching that Luke and I did at the beach last month, we set out to find a geocache hidden in Montevideo's botanical garden.  That expedition took us to a part of the city that was new to us, and to a very large park that reminded me a bit of Piedmont Park in Atlanta, though less well maintained.  The garden itself was peaceful with interesting plants, some pools with tadpoles just waiting to be caught, and enough statues of nude people to exasperate Javy.  After a good bit of searching, we did find the geocache, and felt pretty victorious about that.  Having walked for quite a distance, we easily convinced ourselves that we deserved a dinner out, so we headed to a pizza place that looked inviting.  Two very accommodating waiters helped us understand the menu, and we learned that if you want cheese on your pizza, you don't order from the pizza menu but from the "mozzarella" menu.  We also learned that Uruguayans' affinity for boiled eggs extends to pizza (and mozzarella) toppings.  Gene and the boys enjoyed watching a soccer game on television while I busied myself picking most of the olives out of my calzone.  Olives, olives everywhere.  Olives, boiled eggs, and ham must make up most of the calories consumed in this country.  

Back at our apartment on Saturday night, we could hear the music from the murga across the street.  These performances go on all during the month of Carnaval, many of them on the stage in "our" park.  It was really pleasant going to sleep hearing the music wafting in through the open window, but somewhere in the middle of the night, the music morphed into a loud, repetitive clanging and by about 5 a.m. I had totally given up on going back to sleep.  Getting up and looking out the window, I saw that the source of the clanging was metal poles used to set up tents for the feria, or open-air market, that happens every Sunday morning in the park.  I was still harboring a good deal of resentment over lost sleep when we ventured out to check out the market later in the morning.  Most of this particular market is crafts and clothing, but there are a few stalls where you can buy organic vegetables from independent farmers, one of the few places, apparently, in Montevideo where that is possible.  Coming home with eggs, vegetables, jam, and pecans put me in better spirits.

In the afternoon, we embarked on another adventure to Forteleza del Cerro, a fort built in the early 1800s on Montevideo's namesake "monte," which really just a low hill.  The fort now houses a military museum.  The long bus ride, plus the view of the city from the hill once we got there, gave me a new appreciation for just how large Montevideo is.  We drove through neighborhoods that just seemed to go on and on and on, and we were just skirting around the bay, with a whole lot of city to the north and east of us.  When the bus finally let us off, we had a wilting uphill trek in the hot sun between us and the fort, and we stopped making fun of those Portuguese sailors who had decided to call this hill a mountain.

The neighborhood we were walking though is pretty bleak, but we were happy to find a house that had been turned into a shop of sorts, dingy and unwelcoming as it was.  I stood in line outside an iron grating and when it was my turn, I asked for a bottle of water, which was retrieved for me, and I passed my pesos through the grating in exchange for the water.  We all drank our fill and were revived enough to make our way up the rest of the hill.  We passed several other homes of small-time entrepreneurs, one here selling underwear, another there offering snacks, and between them a hand-written sign pointing down a dusty path and advertising "hamburgesas completas."  In spite of

Home down the hill from the fort

the attraction of the fort and the breathtaking view it offers of the city and port, this neighborhood apparently hasn't been give the support it needs to become a place where tourists would want to come and spend money.  It left me feeling a little depressed.  On the other hand, neighbors were out on their porches, enjoying the afternoon, drinking mate, watching toddlers cool off in kiddy pools; kids were kicking soccer balls around or dare-deviling it down the harrowingly steep road, three piled on one bicycle with not a helmet among them, and then limping back up the hill, nursing injuries.

Our hike to the fort was definitely vale la pena (worth the effort -- a new favorite phrase of mine).  The museum was filled with weapons of all kinds, which fascinated Teo and Javy, of course.  I was more interested in the history, or at least as much of it as I could translate.  Looking out over the port with its cargo ships and cruise ships, and the vast Rio de la Plata, I was impressed again by just how interesting this place is that we've landed for these months, and felt very, very grateful for the chance to be here and absorb what we can of the culture, boiled eggs and all.

View from the fort

Monday afternoon, the boys and started a final week of Spanish classes.  We've been enjoying the park, with its pedal boats and amusement rides, and the beach.   Next week, we move to our "permanent" house in Atlántida.  It will be good to be finally settled and able to start making some Uruguayan friends.  But I will also miss this magical city with all its activity and hubbub, and which has started to feel a bit like home.